I had a dream the other night, and when I woke up it was about 5 in the morning. It was quite a profound dream, so I decided to write it down. It was a very interesting experience, because it didnt feel like "I" was writing it. I was just listening to these words in my head and started putting them down in my iPhone. I havent edited anything, so maybe there's a few spelling mistakes here and there, but I hope you enjoy!
I came to this mountain village, with my cow. I was my age I'm now. The town was kind of like dharmshale except for maybe less indian, more asian. I met this man and he asked me who I was, where I came from and what my plans were. We got to talking and before long he invited me to his house down in the valley to have some tea. One of his relatives was a sage (lama) and his (deceaced?) grandmother was an emination of boundless compassion and the guardian spirit of the sacred cave behind their house. He took me down this gorge, and since their was no proper path, I decided to leave my cow behind to graze. At first I was a little anxious to do so. she had been my loyal companion and trusted friend for this recent journey. I was afraid I'd lose her, she might run. But then I thought, if I do try and take her down this gorge, she might slip and die. That would do neither of us any good. Or we might not find her anything to eat, since it's mostly just water, a lake, down in the valley. Shed get hungry and run from me. As all this ran through my mind we passed a little roadside rest stop. A much older woman was spinning her prayer wheel. She smiled at me and I noticed shed list all her teeth. But she was content. Her daughter was busy setting out vegetables on a tarp on the floor. They'd probably brought some of their surplus harvest here to sell, I thought. As I didn't know their language, with some guestures I asked the old lady if it was ok for my cow to graze near the tree. I promised to tie her up so she wouldn't eat her vegetables. She smiled and waved and in broken English said: ok, ok! No problem! So I took my cow down to the tree. I pulled a rope out of my satchel and tied her to the tree. I gave her plenty of slack. Just enough to roam freely without being to get over to the old lady and eat all their vegetables!
At this point we met up with the mans relative, the lama (sage). The man told me to talk with him. He'd run down ahead of us to tell his wife to prepare some tea for coming guests. He figured since he'd noticed I had spiritual inclinations I'd do good being around his lama relative. At this he left. I looked at the lama and noticed he couldn't talk. Wether it was of a vow or some kind of traumatic experience I couldn't tell. Maybe he was just born that way and that's why he became a lama. But whatever it was, his eyes radiated profound peace and serenity. After standing there for a while, looking into eachothers eyes - saying a thousand things without the use of a single word, he broke out in a quick, jovial laugh and gestured me to follow him. I noticed he pointed to the cave behind the mans house, down in the gorge. Since it was in the middle of a lake, there was a long wooden bridge leading up to the house. There it split off and continued on to the cave the man had spoken off earlier.
Me and the lama continued on down the trail. I noticed a beatiful old dead tree which had fallen down a long time ago. We had to pass underneath. As I was about to duck my head to do so, I noticed this long piece of bark stripping of. This triggered many thoughts. I thought of my friends back home, who never really travel. They stay where they're at, content with their lot in life. Or maybe their not content, but afraid to so something about it. They're afraid they that if they take a stab at realizing their dreams, they might fail. So they'd rather stay where they're at, discontented, atleast clinging on to the posibility that one day things will be nice and their dreams will fulfill themselves. I started thinking that in their eyes I must seem quite the adventurer, a born traveler. But I realized this was probably more their romantic image of me than the reality. Cause in truth, whever I travel, I just find another town and settle there for a few months. I would learn from the locals, make friends with them, and cultivate a kind heart. Wanting little more than food and shelter, giving as much of all else as I could. After a few months, I would inevetably move on again, usually by the urging of this mysterious force inside. But I would always part on the best of terms, having profoundly enriched some of these people's lives. And they mine.
As all these thoughts were swirling through my head quite comfortably, all of a sudden the lama gestured to call for my attention. We hadn't been speaking much, for obvious reasons. But now we'd reached the bottom of the gorge and had arrived at the lake and the start of the bridge. The bridge was low, suspended not more than a foot or so above the water, and very straight. I gathered the lake must remain very still for most of the year, protected by the surrounding mountains and trees. Else, why would they build a bridge this flat and this close to the water? It looked like more of a walkway than a bridge. I noticed this hadn't been so clear from up on the mountain. Indeed, it had looked like just an ordinary bridge from up there. The construction was admirable, though. It looked quite old, yet sturdy. It seemed like the wood came from the local surrounding trees. It was a dense, hard wood. The lama asked me to wait, pointing at an old man coming towards us from the bridge. He looked weathered by time, but commanded our respect by his prescence. Some people do that to you. Sonetimes it's hard to tell wether it's their demeanor or just the fact that they were able to stick around for so long. We let him pass. I could hear him murmuring something under his breath as he passed us, probably a mantra. He seemed completely absorbed in prayer, so much so that I wonder if he noticed us at all. For a brief second I considered asking the lama. But then, remembering he didn't speak, let the thought go and procedeed on down the bridge.
We walked silence until we reached the point where the bridge split off into two directions. One leading to the mans house, and one to the cave. The lama gestured me to wait and he went on down to the cave. I stood absorbed by the awesome scenery in which I found myself. This often happens to my in my travels. A sense of gratefulness for being fortunate enough to experience the beauty and diversity of creation.
Then I noticed the lama returning with an old woman. I immedeatly recognized her as the emination of the great compassionate guardian spirit of the cave the man has told me about earlier. A great sense of reverance arose in me and I made a few awkward prostrations towards the old woman. As I was doing this they'd gotten closer and the old woman started laughing like only a wise old good-hearted woman from the east can. "No need for the formalities, my child! I'm just a simple old lady. My son here, the lama, told me he'd met a person of great spiritual inclination and urged me to meet you. Us meeting is truly auspicious, for after looking at you, I can tell we share a strong karmic connection."
As she was saying all this, part of me was wondering how she knew all this, and how the lama had conveyed to her what he had, without speaking. But by now I'd been traveling long enoung to have learned not to question these sort of situations. It spoils the magic, and prevents you from learning something new, so I just took it in.
"My child, I can tell you you're very close to get what you're looking for, very close indeed. But you have to give up the desire to find it. I will give you a few words of advice. You have been close to finding it for many lifetimes now, but you had ignored the most fundamental thing; cultivating a compassionate, open heart. It gives me great joy to see you're finally accomplishing that. Now, what's left for you is to stop trying to find something. Don't give up the search, don't stop looking, but give up the desire to find anything, for it is this very desire that has kept you bound for so many lifetimes. You've got it, so relax! Stop trying so hard!". After this the old woman broke out into laughter and settled into a deep smile.
...and then I woke up.
I came to this mountain village, with my cow. I was my age I'm now. The town was kind of like dharmshale except for maybe less indian, more asian. I met this man and he asked me who I was, where I came from and what my plans were. We got to talking and before long he invited me to his house down in the valley to have some tea. One of his relatives was a sage (lama) and his (deceaced?) grandmother was an emination of boundless compassion and the guardian spirit of the sacred cave behind their house. He took me down this gorge, and since their was no proper path, I decided to leave my cow behind to graze. At first I was a little anxious to do so. she had been my loyal companion and trusted friend for this recent journey. I was afraid I'd lose her, she might run. But then I thought, if I do try and take her down this gorge, she might slip and die. That would do neither of us any good. Or we might not find her anything to eat, since it's mostly just water, a lake, down in the valley. Shed get hungry and run from me. As all this ran through my mind we passed a little roadside rest stop. A much older woman was spinning her prayer wheel. She smiled at me and I noticed shed list all her teeth. But she was content. Her daughter was busy setting out vegetables on a tarp on the floor. They'd probably brought some of their surplus harvest here to sell, I thought. As I didn't know their language, with some guestures I asked the old lady if it was ok for my cow to graze near the tree. I promised to tie her up so she wouldn't eat her vegetables. She smiled and waved and in broken English said: ok, ok! No problem! So I took my cow down to the tree. I pulled a rope out of my satchel and tied her to the tree. I gave her plenty of slack. Just enough to roam freely without being to get over to the old lady and eat all their vegetables!
At this point we met up with the mans relative, the lama (sage). The man told me to talk with him. He'd run down ahead of us to tell his wife to prepare some tea for coming guests. He figured since he'd noticed I had spiritual inclinations I'd do good being around his lama relative. At this he left. I looked at the lama and noticed he couldn't talk. Wether it was of a vow or some kind of traumatic experience I couldn't tell. Maybe he was just born that way and that's why he became a lama. But whatever it was, his eyes radiated profound peace and serenity. After standing there for a while, looking into eachothers eyes - saying a thousand things without the use of a single word, he broke out in a quick, jovial laugh and gestured me to follow him. I noticed he pointed to the cave behind the mans house, down in the gorge. Since it was in the middle of a lake, there was a long wooden bridge leading up to the house. There it split off and continued on to the cave the man had spoken off earlier.
Me and the lama continued on down the trail. I noticed a beatiful old dead tree which had fallen down a long time ago. We had to pass underneath. As I was about to duck my head to do so, I noticed this long piece of bark stripping of. This triggered many thoughts. I thought of my friends back home, who never really travel. They stay where they're at, content with their lot in life. Or maybe their not content, but afraid to so something about it. They're afraid they that if they take a stab at realizing their dreams, they might fail. So they'd rather stay where they're at, discontented, atleast clinging on to the posibility that one day things will be nice and their dreams will fulfill themselves. I started thinking that in their eyes I must seem quite the adventurer, a born traveler. But I realized this was probably more their romantic image of me than the reality. Cause in truth, whever I travel, I just find another town and settle there for a few months. I would learn from the locals, make friends with them, and cultivate a kind heart. Wanting little more than food and shelter, giving as much of all else as I could. After a few months, I would inevetably move on again, usually by the urging of this mysterious force inside. But I would always part on the best of terms, having profoundly enriched some of these people's lives. And they mine.
As all these thoughts were swirling through my head quite comfortably, all of a sudden the lama gestured to call for my attention. We hadn't been speaking much, for obvious reasons. But now we'd reached the bottom of the gorge and had arrived at the lake and the start of the bridge. The bridge was low, suspended not more than a foot or so above the water, and very straight. I gathered the lake must remain very still for most of the year, protected by the surrounding mountains and trees. Else, why would they build a bridge this flat and this close to the water? It looked like more of a walkway than a bridge. I noticed this hadn't been so clear from up on the mountain. Indeed, it had looked like just an ordinary bridge from up there. The construction was admirable, though. It looked quite old, yet sturdy. It seemed like the wood came from the local surrounding trees. It was a dense, hard wood. The lama asked me to wait, pointing at an old man coming towards us from the bridge. He looked weathered by time, but commanded our respect by his prescence. Some people do that to you. Sonetimes it's hard to tell wether it's their demeanor or just the fact that they were able to stick around for so long. We let him pass. I could hear him murmuring something under his breath as he passed us, probably a mantra. He seemed completely absorbed in prayer, so much so that I wonder if he noticed us at all. For a brief second I considered asking the lama. But then, remembering he didn't speak, let the thought go and procedeed on down the bridge.
We walked silence until we reached the point where the bridge split off into two directions. One leading to the mans house, and one to the cave. The lama gestured me to wait and he went on down to the cave. I stood absorbed by the awesome scenery in which I found myself. This often happens to my in my travels. A sense of gratefulness for being fortunate enough to experience the beauty and diversity of creation.
Then I noticed the lama returning with an old woman. I immedeatly recognized her as the emination of the great compassionate guardian spirit of the cave the man has told me about earlier. A great sense of reverance arose in me and I made a few awkward prostrations towards the old woman. As I was doing this they'd gotten closer and the old woman started laughing like only a wise old good-hearted woman from the east can. "No need for the formalities, my child! I'm just a simple old lady. My son here, the lama, told me he'd met a person of great spiritual inclination and urged me to meet you. Us meeting is truly auspicious, for after looking at you, I can tell we share a strong karmic connection."
As she was saying all this, part of me was wondering how she knew all this, and how the lama had conveyed to her what he had, without speaking. But by now I'd been traveling long enoung to have learned not to question these sort of situations. It spoils the magic, and prevents you from learning something new, so I just took it in.
"My child, I can tell you you're very close to get what you're looking for, very close indeed. But you have to give up the desire to find it. I will give you a few words of advice. You have been close to finding it for many lifetimes now, but you had ignored the most fundamental thing; cultivating a compassionate, open heart. It gives me great joy to see you're finally accomplishing that. Now, what's left for you is to stop trying to find something. Don't give up the search, don't stop looking, but give up the desire to find anything, for it is this very desire that has kept you bound for so many lifetimes. You've got it, so relax! Stop trying so hard!". After this the old woman broke out into laughter and settled into a deep smile.
...and then I woke up.
